From the moment I was made Guardian, I never considered that I could walk away from the role. I’d like to claim it’s because I felt a strong sense of duty from the outset, but it’s really because I was afraid I didn’t have a choice. Maybe that makes me a coward.
On some level, I was secretly hoping Crius and Agatha would recognize their mistake and strip me of the title so that someone better could take over. But the past few days—watching how my Advisors work, training with Mathias, writing my speech for tonight—I realized something. For me, the Guardianship isn’t about swapping my life as an individual for a lifetime of service to other people. For me, it’s personal.
What happened on Elara happened to House Cancer, but it also happened to my school, my friends, my teachers. The damage even reached my home planet and maybe my family. This is as personal as life gets. I’m not in this role because I’m different—I’m here because I’m like every Cancrian everywhere. I know what it feels like to lose everything.
And whether I’m Rho the person or Rho the Guardian, the same goal guides me: I want to save Cancer, and I want to make sure we never suffer like this again.
“I swear it,” I say, the room so silent that my voice carries and lingers.
“With a sip of the Cancer Sea,” says Admiral Crius, “your oath will be sealed.”
He hands me the glass, and I take a deep gulp, the saltiness burning my nose and throat. I try not to cough.
“May the stars of our Crab constellation welcome you with a smile, Holy Mother Rhoma Grace, Guardian of the Fourth House, Cancer,” says the admiral in a deep, carrying voice. Then he bows to me for the second—and probably last—time, whispering under his breath, “Holy Mother.”
The rest of the room follows suit, the whispered salute like a sacred chant, and for a few seconds all I see are the tops of forty people’s heads. And one face.
A guy my age with white streaks in his blond hair is still looking up, watching me. His expensive coat bears the Libran symbol, the Scales of Justice. When we lock eyes, he winks. Then he bows lower than all the others.
“Holy Mother will now swear in her Council,” says Crius. My Advisors march over and join him in a line. The admiral goes first.
I turn to him and say, “Admiral Axley Crius, you are here to swear your loyalty to your Guardian and House Cancer. If you make this solemn oath, you swear to honor, advise, and protect your Guardian, and to always act in the best interest of House Cancer.”
“I swear it.”
Agatha pledges her loyalty next, followed by Dr. Eusta and the others. Being the youngest, Mathias goes last. “I swear it,” he says, his blue gaze glued to mine, “on my Mother’s life.”
It’s the strongest oath a Cancrian can make.
I’m so moved I forget what comes next. “Holy Mother would like to address all of you present now,” says Crius, nudging me forward on his march to the table. I’m left alone with the whole room’s attention. I used to have nightmares that began like this—until I discovered what real nightmares are like.
“Thank you all for coming to House Cancer’s aid,” I say, reciting from memory the speech I wrote with Mathias and Agatha. “I’m pleased to share with you that the tsunamis have ended, and our rescue efforts continue to uncover more survivors.” I find my eyes straying to the Libran, who’s the only person in the room smiling. Every time I look, he’s already looking back.
“The issue now is that our ocean lies restless, pulled in too many directions by the orbiting moon rubble, which is stirring up savage storms. We won’t know what the consequences will be to marine life. For now, people are returning to their island homes to rebuild and save as many species as we can. Technicians have begun to repair our satellites and power grid, so communications should be up soon. Our people, our wild species, and our land will adapt. We will survive.”
Low clapping breaks out, a gesture meant to show solidarity from the room without overpowering my voice. The Libran whistles. A few people turn and glare at him, and I realize I’m smiling.
“As my first official order as Guardian, I am scattering our Zodai Guard to the far-flung posts around our House and galaxy so we won’t all be caught in one place again.” More clapping. My Advisors and I agreed this would be the wisest move for now, at least until we know more specifics about what caused the explosion. “I look forward to meeting with every one of you tonight. Thank you.”
I’m seated at the center of the table, flanked by Admiral Crius and Agatha. Mathias is near the end, so we can’t talk. Or so I thought.
You dazzled them.
My Ring grows warm as I receive Mathias’s message—and so does my face. Thank you, I send back. I’m going to work hard to be worthy of your oath.
You already are, Rho.
“You were spectacular,” says Agatha, pulling me out of my head. I’m pretty sure my cheeks are still burning.